


For The Bold

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1199571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are still in the honeymoon stage and being separated is hard, okay? Yes, I get inspired by their tweeting fanservice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Bold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [For The Bold](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/36408) by colazitron. 



> " Word Count: 3,398.   
> Disclaimer: No ownership claimed, no money made. Also, this is all lies.  
> A/N: This is for confessionsxoxo. Fluffly and porny and entirely without plot. ;) "
> 
> This is not mine - it was originally written and posted by colazitron on livejournal. :)

Harry can’t help the giddy smile that breaks out over his lips when he checks the display of his ringing phone as he grabs for it. It’s late already and he was just getting ready for bed, but he’s known this call would come.

“Hey, you,” he says into the phone and lies back onto his bed, the phone pressed to his ear maybe a little too tightly. 

“Hey yourself,” Louis replies. Harry can hear that he’s smiling too. 

“I meant it, you know?” Louis chuckles and Harry spares a moment to let his smile stretch wider at how completely past any sort of conventional pleasantries they are. 

“Meant what?” he then asks. 

“I really do miss you already.” Louis’ voice softens a bit as he says it and Harry feels his toes curl and presses a hand against his mouth and tries really hard not to make any embarrassing, high-pitched noises. 

“I meant it too,” he says then, when he feels he has his voice under enough control to speak and sighs heavily. 

“We’re a bit ridiculous, aren’t we?” Louis laughs quietly and Harry shifts further up onto the bed, so he’s lying on it fully, staring up at his dull ceiling. He’s not really seeing it anyway, rather choosing to concentrate on the image of Louis his mind pulls up. 

“Completely ridiculous. This was a lot easier when you had a girlfriend and I could pretend I wasn’t in love with you.” 

“Your weren’t fooling anyone,” Louis teases and Harry feels the need to stick his tongue out. 

“I’m sticking my tongue out at you, just so you know,” he informs Louis and is met with another laugh. 

“Aren’t you afraid I’m gonna bite it, if you do that?” 

“No, I don’t think I’d mind,” Harry muses and doesn’t really think about what he’s saying but Louis stays quiet for a beat too long and he blushes even though he’s alone in his room. 

“Christ, Harry,” Louis says and there’s a tone to his voice that makes Harry shift subconsciously on the sheets. This thing with Louis, their relationship, hasn’t been going on for long, even though Harry’s been wanting it since way back during the live shows, but he knows that tone intimately. His body reacts it embarrassingly easily, a low heat settling in his stomach and goose bumps prickling on his arms. 

“I wish I could,” Louis confides, like he’s sharing a secret and Harry feels cocooned into the connection between their two phones and a little closer to Louis, even though it’s ridiculous, because he hasn’t moved an inch and Louis is still two hours away. 

“You’d make that little sigh you always do when I kiss you and you’re not expecting it,” Louis continues and Harry bites his lip. He sighs? 

“It’s why I love catching you off-guard so much. You just sigh and relax and forget about whatever you’re doing.” 

Harry can feel his flush deepen. He didn’t think that Louis has noticed how ridiculously pleased he is whenever Louis instigates any sort of intimacy between them. It’s not even that Harry usually does it more than Louis, but he has grown so accustomed to watching and wanting Louis without being able to have him, that Louis wanting him back still catches him by surprise. 

“It’s really the sweetest thing,” Louis says fondly and Harry’s torn between preening on the praise and bristling at it. In the end though, he knows, if Louis likes him being sweet, he’d be a dentist’s nightmare just to make him happy. 

“And it probably shouldn’t turn me on so much, but it does,” he chuckles and now Harry’s definitely preening. Also shifting on his sheets again. 

“A lot of what you do turns me on though.” 

“Like what?” Harry prompts. He can hear Louis move around – maybe he’s on his bed too now? – before he answers. 

“Like the way you bite your lip when you look at me from across the room before you text me that you’d really like to kiss me. Or how long you look at me before you actually do.” 

Harry feels his breathing go shallow and bites his lip, almost having to chuckle, because he’d really, really like to kiss Louis now. 

“I really wish you were here right now. If you were I wouldn’t have to be alone in my bed right now. I could stare at your face and trail my finger over all the places I haven’t touched enough yet, like the corner of your eye or the dimple in your cheek when you smile or the dip below your mouth. I don’t think I’ll ever have touched you enough.” 

Harry subconsciously trails a finger over the places Louis’ pointing out and he doesn’t want to breathe, he doesn’t want to do anything that could make Louis stop, because he’s never opened up to him like this before, the distance seemingly making it easier. 

“You’re really quite gorgeous. I don’t suppose I’ve told you that before, have I?” 

“No,” Harry answers quietly. He doesn’t need Louis to say it, because his actions clearly show that he finds him attractive, but it’s nice to hear it anyway. 

“It’s easy to see why the girls all go crazy for you and I suppose you must have gone a bit crazy too, to have picked me, eh?” he jokes and Harry knows – or at least he assumes – that Louis doesn’t mean it, but he feels the immense urge to quash any such doubts well up within him anyway and he doesn’t bother holding back. 

“Don’t be daft, Louis. You’re bright and witty and funny and talented and I wouldn’t care if you looked like the hunchback of Nôtre-Dame, though I must say I enjoy how pretty you are,” he says, a little fiercely and Louis goes quiet on his side of the line. 

“If you were here, I’d kiss you stupid,” Louis then says, with an edge to his voice that Harry’s not heard before. 

“I’d push you down onto the bed and hold your hands beside your head and kiss the breath out of you. And then I’d kiss you a little more just to see if you’d try to get away.” 

“I wouldn’t,” Harry admits, a heat wave rolling through his body as he imagines the scenario in his head. He’s always liked that Louis’s a lot stronger than he looks and he knows that Louis can hold him down, even if he’s struggling. Not that he’d ever struggle against Louis – unless it was for fun. 

“I’d have to let go of your hands at some point though so I could get mine under your shirt. I love how soft your skin is, even on your stomach. Are you even wearing a shirt?” 

“Yeah. The grey t-shirt,” Harry answers and he knows that Louis knows which grey t-shirt he means; the one that he’d been given by a fan at a signing once upon a while that proudly proclaims his feelings for Louis. He’s recently confessed to Louis that he’s been wearing it to sleep at home, because it ridiculously makes him feel connected to Louis. Louis had laughed and called him a sentimental girl, but also kissed him intensely so he figures he doesn’t mind. 

“I bet your skin would be so hot,” Louis goes on and Harry pushes a hand under his shirt and feels his body radiate heat in response to what Louis’s saying. 

“Is your skin hot?” 

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, his hand still on his stomach. 

“I’d push my hand up and when I brush your nipple, your breath always catches,” Louis narrates and Harry automatically follows with his own hand and his breath does catch, even though it’s just his own hand. He can’t help it, he’s got sensitive nipples. 

“Just like that. God, Harry,” Louis moans into the phone and Harry finds himself wondering if Louis’ touching himself, imagining it were Harry’s hands on him. If he’s in his usual pyjamas or maybe just boxers. He wants to reciprocate and so he swallows and says, 

“I’d pull your shirt off and then kiss you again.” 

“Would you now?” Louis teases, but it’s the same way he always teases Harry in bed because he knows it spurs him on and Louis likes that Harry doesn’t get fed up, but instead tries to shut him up with his lips on his and his hands on his skin. 

“Yes. And I’d run my hands down your back, because I love the way the muscles there work when you press down into me.” 

“I’d bite your ear.” 

“I’d like it.” 

“I’d hold your head still and push your mouth open with mine so far that your jaw’d ache.” 

Harry whimpers at that, because he knows that Louis loves doing that. Louis plunders his mouth like he expects to find treasure hidden behind his teeth or under his tongue. And he does it until Harry can’t kiss him back anymore and just lets him take whatever it is he finds there. It’s strange and not entirely like kissing, but Harry enjoys how Louis presses ever closer to him when he does it, like he’s trying to climb inside him and learn him from the inside out. It sends thrills down his spine and so he waits for Louis’s craving to be satisfied, so he can kiss him again. 

“I’d wrap my legs around you,” Harry continues the narrative. 

“Would you be hard?” Louis asks and Harry closes his eyes and answers automatically. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you, Harry? Are you hard?” Louis presses and Harry moans a bit as his hips lift up off the bed, wishing to meet Louis’ and pushing through thin air instead. 

“Yes,” he admits and suddenly realizes, a bit late, he supposes, that he’s having phone sex. 

“Are you touching yourself?” 

“Yes,” Harry says again and Louis makes a strangled, muffled sound and Harry thinks his face is probably pushed into the pillow. 

“Where?” 

“My chest,” he clarifies and flushes because, somehow, this is so much more intimate than any of the touching and kissing they’ve done so far. Louis’s had fingers inside him once before and he’s sucked Louis off a couple of times but this... admitting to Louis what he does to him even just over the connection of their phones, leaves him feeling a lot more open. 

“Take off your boxers,” Louis instructs and Harry whimpers a bit and scrambles to push them down to his knees, kicking them off the rest of the way. 

“I’d take them off you, if I could,” Louis continues and Harry wants Louis to be in the same situation he is and says, 

“Yours too.” 

“Yes,” Louis acquiesces easily and Harry can hear the shuffling that must mean that Louis’ taking his underwear off. 

“I- Harry?” he then asks, suddenly sounding a bit unsure. 

“Yes?” 

“I want you to do what I’m saying. Is that-?” 

“Fuck, yes,” Harry cuts him off, knowing that Louis wants to ask him if what he’s doing is alright or too much, but Harry’s incredibly turned on and feels weirdly split open by Louis’ words and he really doesn’t want to stop this. 

“Okay. Alright,” Louis says and takes a shaky breath. Harry’s toes curl at the knowledge that he’s not the only one affected so strongly by this. 

“I’d have to kiss you again, because you’d be looking at me with that look that makes me want to look you away and ravish you every hour of the day,” he continues then and Harry sucks his lower lip into his mouth, knowing that it doesn’t even come close to feeling Louis’ lips against his, but it’s still better than nothing at all. 

“Then I’d make you lick my palm and-” 

“I’d suck on your fingers,” Harry interjects, startling a low, breathless chuckle out of Louis. 

“You would, you cheeky minx.” 

“I love the way your skin tastes. Every bit of your skin,” Harry emphasises and is rewarded with a quiet moan. 

“God, Harry, you can’t just say that,” Louis fake complains and it sends a thrill through Harry and before he can think about it, he pushes two of his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them noisily and pulling them back out of his mouth with a clearly audible ‘pop’, just to hear Louis moan again. 

“Are you sure you want to be distracting me right now?” Louis asks and Harry feels a smile stretch his lips, even as his cock tells him that, no, he really doesn’t want to distract Louis. 

“I can’t help myself when your fingers are right there,” he says instead and Louis’ breath catches. 

“I’ll remember that,” he promises and Harry bites his lip, certain that there are already plans about what he can do with that information in Louis’ mind. 

“Right now though I’d really like to get my hand on your cock, if you’d let me,” Louis says and Harry’s breath catches at the bluntness of the statement. 

“Be my guest,” he says and licks his own palm, wanting more than anything for it to be Louis’. So he closes his eyes and waits for Louis to go on. 

“I’d get my hand around both of us, ‘cause I want to feel you hard against me,” Louis goes on and Harry wraps his hand around his own cock, his hips bucking into the touch and the pleasure it sends coursing through his entire body. He doesn’t remember touching himself having felt this intense in a long while. 

“I’d start out slow,” Louis says and so that’s what Harry does. 

“Just pulling a little and twisting my wrist. Brush my thumb over the tip to see if you’re already leaking.” 

“I am,” Harry whispers. 

“I am too,” Louis says and Harry clenches his eyes shut tighter, trying to imagine Louis hovering above him, in between his legs, his hand curled around both their erections, stroking lazily. 

“How long do you think I’d be doing that for if I wanted to make you beg?” Louis muses, with a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“Not long,” Harry admits, his ear and hand going sweaty from the phone, but most of his attention focussed on the other hand, that’s still stroking his cock slowly, imitating the way he remembers Louis doing it and in some back region of his mind, he’s proud of himself for being able to play along that well. He’s usually terribly impatient with Louis, who tends to love to tease him for as long as he can get away with. 

“Are you that desperate, Hazza?” Louis teases further and Harry knows it’s what he wants to hear so he says, 

“Yes. I want you to make me come. Make me come, Louis.” 

“Cheater,” Louis accuses, but his voice falters. 

“I’d speed up then. Wouldn’t want to torture you after all.” 

“Yes, you do,” Harry protests, smiling and Louis laughs a little. Harry loves that they can laugh during sex and it doesn’t ruin the mood, it just makes Harry’s heart open to Louis a bit more. 

“Alright, so I do. But it’s just because you pull the most devastatingly undone faces when I do and I love watching you fall apart slowly.” 

Louis’ voice has gone rough and Harry imagines he could feel the huffs of his sharp breaths against his neck. He listens to the harsh breathing in his ear and knows he’s breathing just as erratically, pushing his hips up into his own fist, getting inevitably closer to the end, but not nearly as quickly as he’d like. 

“Louis, please,” he prompts into the silence. 

“I want to kiss you again, but we’re too out of breath, so I’d give you the fingers of my other hand to suck on instead and lean down to lick at your nipple.” 

Harry gasps and moans at the visceral image, his nipple tightening almost painfully, his feet digging into the mattress and his hand desperately wanting to speed up. 

“It wouldn’t take long now anymore, would it?” 

“No, I’m almost there,” Harry admits and he doesn’t remember or care how long they’ve been at this mostly imaginary tryst. 

“I’d grab us tighter then, pushing against you and scratching my nail over your skin softly.” 

Harry’s mewl is what cuts Louis off this time, because Louis knows how much he likes that. 

“You’d lose it then, closing your eyes and pushing your hips against me and I’d just want to see you fall apart. Are you almost there, Harry?” 

“Yes, so close, I’m – Louis,” Harry says and feels his stomach tighten up and heat collecting in his centre, the way a star collapses in on itself before exploding outwards. 

“God, Harry, you’re so gorgeous like that. I wish I could-” Louis breaks himself off this time and for a few moments they only breathe harshly into the phone, each listening to the other’s irregular pants before Harry feels himself snap and let go. 

“Louis, I’m-” he starts to say, but ends up with a soft little sound as his hips arch up off the bed and he spills into his own hand, his orgasm rushing through his body and his mind and if he could will it to, down the line of the phone to where Louis is still chasing his own. 

“Louis, come on, you’re so close,” he encourages him instead, short staccato breath in his ear. 

“You’re so hot and hard. I’d get my own hand around yours to help you along. I know you love my hands. You love that they’re bigger than yours, that I can wrap my fingers around you so easily. I love that too.” 

Louis only moans into the phone and lets Harry take over the talking. 

“I want to make you come, Louis. Will you come for me? Will you? I want to feel your come on my hand and I want to lick it off after. I want to taste you. Will you let me taste you?” He can’t even be embarrassed about the things he’s saying anymore, because it’s not like he hasn’t already done that and Louis makes these little sounds he does when he’s close and then lets out a low, drawn-out moan and Harry knows he’s just come. 

“Jesus, Harry,” Louis says breathlessly, before chuckling a little. 

They’re quiet for a few moments and Harry feels his heartbeat and his mind calming down. He wipes his hand on his stomach, before shifting the phone to the other side and holding it gingerly with just his fingertips – just to be on the safe side – and turns his face to the side, groping for the pack of tissues he knows he has on his bedside table. 

“I really do miss you though. And not just because of this,” Louis says then, just as Harry’s wiping himself clean with a tissue. He pauses and smiles, feeling warmth spread in his chest. 

“I know. So do I,” he says and crumples the tissue up, throwing it on the floor. 

“A few more days.” 

“It’s not that long,” Harry tries, even though it feels like forever right now. 

“I know,” Louis sighs. 

“Feels like forever though?” Harry asks, smiling. 

“Yeah.” Louis’ smile is back in his voice as well. 

Harry’s suddenly overcome with a wave of tiredness and yawns shamelessly into the phone, making Louis chuckle once again. 

“Have I tired you out?” 

“A bit,” Harry grants, tugging his boxers back on and settling under the covers.

“Best get to sleep then.” 

“That’s my intention,” Harry says, burrowing his head into the pillow. 

“Talk to you tomorrow then?” 

“You’d better,” Harry mock-threatens. 

“I will. Good night.” 

“Good night.” 

“I love you,” Louis says and Harry’s curling in on himself, smiling ridiculously wide and feeling light and happy. 

“I love you,” he says back, because he’s never really liked how the “too” sounded tacked on to it. 

“Good night,” Louis repeats and Harry laughs a little, repeating the sentiment as well, before ending the call and any “you hang up first” nonsense before it could happen. He sets the phone to flight mode with a few pushes of his thumb against the screen and puts it down onto his night stand, resolving to sleep away a few more of the hours separating him from Louis. 

The End


End file.
